She was the last, the attack was broken for the moment. He dropped with his back to the stone, gasping for breath, forcing his fingers to move smoothly as he fed darts into the hèsotsan. The others had stopped firing as well for want of targets; he permitted himself a quick glimpse at the river.
A good number of fargi had reached the shore, but they were dead. Along with some of the defenders, for it had been a close run thing. In the shallows the dark figure of a Sasku was draped across the corpse of a Yilanè in obscene embrace. Other corpses, bristling with arrows, floated away in the stream. Sanone called out and Kerrick turned to him, saw him standing on top of the barrier and shielding his eyes against the setting sun.
“They’ve gone back,” he cried. “They have stopped the attack. We have won!”
Won, Kerrick thought, looking around at the Tanu dead. What have we won? We have slaughtered some fargi in a world teeming with fargi. Some of us are dead and they will keep attacking until we are all dead. We have held them but we have won nothing. Even if we beat them back this time they will come again. They loathe us just as much as we hate them. They can find us wherever we hide so we cannot hide. They will follow us wherever we run, so we cannot run.
Not us, he realized then. Me. If all they wanted was to kill Tanu there were plenty on the other side of the mountains. The raptors and the night birds could see everything, watch everyone. Yet this great force had come here, striking directly at this valley like a far-flung spear. Why? Because he was here; it was a chilling thought. Vaintè, it had to be her, still alive, still seeking vengeance.
What could be done? Where could he escape to? What possible defense had they?
Anger possessed him, shook his body, sent him leaping to his feet brandishing the hèsotsan over his head, shouting.
“You cannot do this, Vaintè, you cannot kill us all. You will try but you cannot. This is our land to live in and you cannot cross the ocean with your cold creatures and drive us from it. You will not win here and you will go crawling home with your few survivors as soon as that is clear to you. Then you will come again…”
Kerrick realized that Sanone was looking at him in amazement, not understanding a word that he was saying. His temper died but the cold anger remained. He smiled wryly at the mandukto and spoke in Sasku.
“You have seen them for the first time today. Do you like it? Do you enjoy seeing murgu kill your people? We must put an end to them—once and for all.”
Kerrick stopped then, breathing hard. Looking out at the high-piled dead, the handful of living. Could the Yilanè be stopped? If so—how?
There could be only one way. They could retreat no more, hide no more.
The battle must be taken to the enemy. That was the answer, a clear and resolute answer and an inescapable one.
Sanone looked at Kerrick in wonder now as he spoke. No, he was not speaking, for the sounds he was emitting were like nothing he had ever heard before. And as he talked he moved his body, threw his head back, and his arms shook as though he had a seizure.
Kerrick saw the expression on Sanone’s face and realized that he had spoken in Yilanè for he was thinking about the Yilanè—and thinking like a Yilanè now. Coldly and savagely analyzing what must be done, examining the facts then reaching a solution. When he spoke again it was in Sasku, carefully and clearly.
“We will take the war to the murgu. We will seek them out in their city far to the south. We will find them there and we will kill them there. When this place that they call Alpèasak is gone so will they be. I know that city and I know how to destroy it. That is what we will do.” He turned and called down in Marbak to Herilak at the water’s edge.